


promise me

by silverkatana



Category: H.O.T. (Band), SECHSKIES (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, M/M, somewhat ambiguously platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 22:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverkatana/pseuds/silverkatana
Summary: semi-au in which an seungho & kim jaeduck are childhood friends, but they say goodbye when seungho moves to america. when they meet again, they're in rival groups, and their respective members are bent on ignoring one another.





	promise me

**Author's Note:**

> i know tony & jaeduck didn't live in the same hometown/go to the same school but for the sake of the plotline it had to happen... anyway here's yet another (ambiguously?) platonic fic from me

“Jaeduck-ah, I’m moving to America soon,” Seungho blurts out, three-twenty in the afternoon in front of the school gates watching the raindrops go splitter-splatter against the dark grey roads. The yellow umbrella slips to the side slightly as Jaeduck’s grip on it loosens, and there’s a momentary pause before he turns to stare at Seungho.

 

“What?”

 

Jaeduck’s heart is going haywire in his chest now, and he temporarily forgets how to draw a breath; he re-tightens his grip on the handle of the umbrella, shaking his head as though convinced he’s heard Seungho wrongly.

 

_ You can’t be moving. Not across the continent. Not fifteen hours away from me. _

 

A smile crosses his features as he turns his head slightly to look at Jaeduck’s expression - he’s biting his lip, his eyes quivering with hazy disbelief, eyebrows furrowed in a look of confusion. He has to struggle to keep the corners of his lips tilted upwards, but the way Jaeduck looks so crushed warps his smile a little and transforms into a bittersweet curve. 

 

“I’m leaving,” he repeats, his tone softer this time, “I’m moving to America with my father and my sister.”

 

Jaeduck falters, a silence hanging between them filled only by the splatter of raindrops against hard ground. “Forever?”

 

“No,” he says with haste, seeing relief flit across Jaeduck’s face just briefly before it’s replaced once again by the same conflicted frown, “No, no, not forever. Of course not. I’m going there to study, and I’ll be back eventually.” 

 

A sigh flutters past his lips, and for a moment he wonders if Jaeduck can hear the apology written in the sound, if he can sense the way his heart aches in his chest too and the way he wants to crumble to the ground and breathe out an “I’m so sorry I never wanted to leave you here alone”; Jaeduck only stares at the pouring rain blankly, and he reaches out to take hold of the umbrella in Jaeduck’s grip. The younger of the two lets him. “Let’s go home, Jaeduck.”

 

“Let’s go to the playground,” Jaeduck mumbles suddenly, “The playground where we met. Do your parents need you home immediately?”

 

Seungho checks the time - three-twenty-two. Walking to the playground would take thirty-five minutes or so, and then another twenty minutes to get home from there; he would reach home around four-forty, maybe, depending on how long he spends with Jaeduck at the playground.

 

_ Come back home after school, Seungho, you need to pack your stuff. Don’t hang around too long, you have a lot of things to do - come back around four, okay? _

 

“No,” he assures Jaeduck with a smile, lifting the umbrella a little higher and stepping out into the rain, hearing the rapid pitter-pattering of rain droplets against the nylon, “Let’s go to the playground, then.”

 

They walk in the rain that gets heavier as time passes, splashing droplets of water against their school uniforms and forming puddles along roadsides that they rush past before anyone drives past and soaks them to the core. Both of them know the way to the playground by heart, and by the time they reach the place of their childhood memories, it’s four in the afternoon, maybe.

 

Jaeduck sucks in a breath, casting his gaze across the playground - slicked wet with rain, but the colours still as vibrant as ever; the sapphire blue slide they used to spend hours on, the red swings they used to sit on all day chatting excitedly while their parents swung them with languid movements of their arms, the yellow see-saw with bright green paint on the handles where they would spend forever trying to even out their weight, the marmalade orange-coloured monkey bars that Jaeduck eventually became a pro at while Seungho sulked about his apparent talent. 

 

_ But by the time you come back, will it still look the same? Will it still be around? _

 

“When are you coming back?” he murmurs, voice drowned away in the roar of the downpour but just loud enough for Seungho to hear.

 

“I don’t know,” Seungho confesses with a shaky exhalation, and it’s the first time in his short life that Jaeduck has been faced with the situation of someone precious to him leaving for god-knows-how-long, and  _ damn it _ it hurts and he hates every second of it.

 

“Don’t worry!” The sudden upbeat tone surprises Jaeduck, and he tilts his head at Seungho, who beams at him.

 

_ As though nothing’s wrong. _

 

_ As though you’re not leaving me here alone, without you. _

 

_ As though you’re not leaving my life when you’ve been part of it for so long. _

 

“I’ll come back for you,” Seungho declares strongly, “I promise I’ll come back here and I’ll find you, and it’ll be like I never left. We’ll still be best friends forever, okay? You don’t need anyone else when there’s me!”

 

Despite the way emotions are making his head spin and the corners of his eyes moist, Jaeduck can’t help the chuckle that bubbles up in his throat. “By the time you get back I’ll probably have a girlfriend and I’ll be living happily without you,” he teases, laughing a little louder as he sees Seungho pulling a face at him.

 

“Liar,” Seungho retorts good-naturedly, “You won’t get a girlfriend. You’ll be all alone here, lonely and sad, and don’t worry because when I return I’ll be the one who makes you happy. Even if you’re a loser without a girlfriend I’ll show up at your doorstep on a lonely rainy day with roses to keep you company.”

 

This time Jaeduck can’t help the full-blown laughter that breaks past his trembling lips. “Stop joking around, hyung,” he exclaims, and Seungho only smiles wider, and all of a sudden Jaeduck doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry or drop to the ground and beg Seungho not to leave him here alone or utter out an “I hope you have fun in America” and hope his voice doesn’t crack and betray the way he’s falling apart piece by piece.

 

He settles for neither laughing or crying, and glances at Seungho, taking in his features and committing them to memory; the exact dark shade of his eyes, the faint upward arc of his lips, the way his hair falls across his forehead messily from the wind. “I’ll miss you,” he says hoarsely, and his voice breaks on the last word - and now he can see the way Seungho’s eyes grow a little damp too, and god how he wants to break down in tears in the middle of the empty playground and cry amidst the rush of raindrops.

 

Seungho only smiles, taking Jaeduck’s hand in his, and in a swift motion he wraps his pinky finger around Jaeduck’s. “I promise you, Kim Jaeduck,” he whispers there in the pouring rain standing in the brightly-coloured playground where they first met, “I promise I’ll come back for you.”

  
  
  


The day comes to an end, monochrome roads with nauseating blurs of blue-white headlights and street-lamps glaring amber against shadow-grey skies, dark concrete dappled with lingering evidence of the afternoon downpour.

 

Eleven forty-two at night and Jaeduck finds himself lying awake with a vacant stare directed towards his ceiling, fingers idly tracing patterns along the surface of his bedsheets. It’s the mildly irritating time of the night where his eyelids are heavy yet his mind finds too many things to think about, the time where he wishes for sleep to come but some part of him refuses to succumb.

 

He thinks of school, of dance practice the following Monday, of the sound of rain against umbrellas, of the playground - and all of a sudden he’s thinking of Seungho again, just as he has been for the past six hours and thirty-nine minutes since he’s reached home, of Seungho’s smile that makes him want to cry and of Seungho’s promise to him and of how he’s said goodbye to Seungho and it could be forever before he sees him again.

 

When his eyelids droop closed and his breathing falls into the slow steady inhale-exhale that sleep brings at three minutes past midnight, the last thought that remains in his mind is still Seungho.

 

Nine-fifty in the morning with his mother drawing back his curtains to let too-bright rays of sunlight dance across his bleary vision and asking him why he’s still sleeping at this time on a perfect Saturday and the first thought that crosses his mind is bitter;  _ today is anything but perfect. _

 

Seungho, Seungho, still Seungho.

 

Restless waking hours combine with minutes ticking into hours of lying in bed tracing eyes over walls and ceilings amidst drowsy contemplations, and one day turns into another, and at one hour and twenty-two minutes past Sunday Jaeduck lies awake and wonders bleakly if he should just pretend to be sick to get out of reporting to school in seven hours’ time.

 

He doesn’t want to stop at the school gates only to realise that Seungho isn’t there for him to wait for anymore; he doesn’t want to walk out of his classroom after a long day and hear dead silence instead of Seungho complaining about his workload.

 

Dawn rolls around, and he’s rudely awakened by the blaring of his alarm way too close to his ears; he dresses himself and washes up with almost mechanical movements, and the usual getting-ready routine passes by in little more than a blank blur of shuffling around the house. The only time he snaps out of his vacuous state of mind is when he nearly forgets to bring his sneakers for dance practice and has to rush back into the house to grab hold of his shoebag; the next few minutes spent cycling to school is barely registered in his mind either.

 

By the time he arrives, there’s already a number of students meeting up with their friends before the start of school at the gates, laughing and chatting loudly; he parks his bicycle (there’s no point in walking to school now that there’s no one to walk home with) and drifts into the school compound, his right hand clasping around his textbooks so tightly that his knuckles nearly turn ghost-white.

 

It feels so empty, a school morning without waiting for him to run up to the school gates hugging his textbooks to his body and his black schoolbag thudding against his back coupled with a sheepish grin and an apologetic “I overslept”.

 

Cycling to school, walking into the school compound without waiting at the gates, making his way to class without strolling around the long way just to converse longer; it feels so wrong.

 

Just before he crosses the compound to get to his classroom, he looks over his shoulder to the school gates one more time.

 

Just in case Seungho comes running with that same rueful scrawl written across his expression, just in case he yells out Jaeduck’s name and tells him to wait up, just in case.

 

Everything is a blur in his mind; he barely has the energy to smile at some of his other friends who glance over at him with concerned expressions, his pen falters against the thin paper of math worksheets after writing down a single number, and all the words that leave his teachers’ mouths might as well be Greek.

 

His lost state of mind makes itself even more apparent when he’s standing in his dance attire, staring hollowly at the mirror, apologising for perhaps the seventh time for making a mistake in a choreography they’ve rehearsed too many times to count.

 

“Are you sick?” Jaejin asks him bluntly, peering at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve been off the whole day, you even responded with ‘yes’ when the teacher asked you if she was speaking to a wall…”

 

Jaeduck heaves a sigh. “Let’s not speak of that incident again; and no,” he pauses and blinks in surprise about how honestly he’s speaking, “No, I am not okay.”

 

He ends up going home early from dance practice, but being the only one walking in school premises at five in the afternoon only amplifies his loneliness further.

 

_ Damn it, Seungho-hyung. _

 

_ I miss you already. _

  
  
  


The day that Jaeduck walks out of school clutching his graduation certificate, he decides to make his way to the playground.

 

It’s a bright day, the sun barely veiled by thin grey-white clouds that hang in the cerulean hues of the sky akin to sheep’s wool, and he’s not surprised to hear the high-pitched giggles of children as he approaches the playground. He takes a seat on a bench in the shade, running his gaze over the familiar setting; the swing that they loved to sit on is being taken up by two young girls, maybe twins, who are grinning so widely it’s almost as though their cheeks are going to be split apart, and the blue slide that they always ran up is currently being used by a laughing boy that reminds him too much of himself in the past.

 

“You would have graduated last year,” he mutters under his breath, watching the children run around and around in circles till they’ve made themselves dizzy and they’re staggering around adorned with big smiles and silly giggles, “I wonder if you did well.”

 

Years have passed, and he’s graduated from school -  _ Seungho was supposed to attend my ceremony and I was supposed to attend his last year  _ \- and yet the gradual erosion of his memories along the flow of time did not seem to apply to every little thing about Seungho; he still remembers clearer than the sun in the sky’s light the way Seungho’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs or the way his lips would curve downwards in playful protest or the way his laughter rings across the air like crystals chiming in the wind.

 

Years have passed, and as Jaeduck sits alone at the playground where they first met, he wonders for a brief moment if Seungho still thinks of him.

 

_ Have you made a new life for yourself in America, fifteen hours away from me? _

 

_ Do you still remember your promise to me? _

 

_ Do you still remember me? _

 

He’s moved to a different part of town in Seoul with Jaejin now, and he no longer stays near to where Seungho used to be; sometimes he wonders if Seungho is already back here, in Korea, in the same city as him, but he doesn’t know - maybe Seungho doesn’t know where to find him anymore, and one day they’ll see each other again in the heart of the city, maybe, and -

 

_ Seungho would have waited at the school gates if he came back. _

 

One of the children stumbles and falls to the ground, his loud wail snapping Jaeduck out of his reverie; watching as the child’s parents rush forward and fuss over him, he stands and exits the playground, offering a sympathetic smile to the child before mounting his bicycle and moving off towards his house.

 

_ Are you going to keep your promise to me? _

  
  
  


On the October of 1996, after a harsh day’s training Jaeduck’s collapsed on his bed tracing circles along the sheets aimlessly; until Jaejin bursts through the door with a suddenness that startles Jaeduck into sitting upright.

 

“Did you hear?” Jaejin questions.

 

“About what?”

 

Jaejin tosses him a small square-shaped object - upon catching it Jaeduck realises it’s an album. “They’re a big success, debuted last month,” Jaejin mutters, “They’re called H.O.T. Give their album a listen, the songs are actually pretty good.”

 

He hums out an ‘okay’ and is quick to play the album; the first track comes on, a powerful one, and after a bit he realises he’s already hooked onto the catchy beat and powerful rap vocals.

 

“Wait,” he mumbles partway through the song, “I swear this voice sounds familiar.”

 

But it’s in English - the lyrics - and he doesn’t recall ever speaking to anyone who can pronounce English decently without stumbling over nearly every syllable, so he dismisses the idea and passes it off as a voice similar to one of his classmates’ or friends’.

 

“The songs are good, aren’t they?” Jaejin queries as a cute track comes on, one with an undoubtedly catchy chorus - Jaeduck swears that voice is really familiar - and he nods his head in agreement; no wonder the group is popular.

 

“It’s not like we can afford concert tickets to see what they look like, we can’t even afford our own house,” Jaejin continues, flopping down onto his bed, “So we’ll just have to debut successfully, and when we see them for real we’ll be their rivals.”

 

_ Will we be able to achieve that kind of success? _

 

Despite the doubt and nervousness that gnaws at him from inside out, Jaeduck manages a faint smile at Jaejin. “Okay.”

  
  
  


On the April of 1997, they achieve just that.

 

H.O.T and Sechskies, the two names that are chatted about along streets and whispered in classrooms and exchanged in a frenzy of high-pitched arguments between schoolgirls walking home past school gates and claiming one group is better than the other.

 

“We’re going to see H.O.T today,” Jaejin grumbles as they get into the van, “They’re performing today too.”

 

It hasn’t been long, but the supposed rivalry has already hit fever pitch; they’ve run across two of the members, heavily flanked by bodyguards, and neither of the members from either group had looked at one another, focusing their gazes straight ahead in fixed stares. Despite himself, Jaeduck feels a faint tinge of excitement at the prospect of finally being able to see all five members of their rival group.

 

The van stops and they clamber off, following Jiwon past the entrance doors of the broadcasting station and heading for the elevator. When they reach the third floor and the door opens, Suwon mutters low enough for only the Sechskies members to hear, “H.O.T’s there.”

 

There they are, heading towards the waiting room, five members surrounded from every corner by tall bodyguards. Jaeduck squints, and he can faintly make out Moon Heejun, the leader - and then Jaejin elbows him in the side to remind him of their rivalry, and with a slight flinch he fixes his gaze straight ahead and follows the group past H.O.T.

 

And  _ then _ he glimpses a face too familiar to be true, and he slows in his steps halfway past the group, causing him to miss a step and stumble when Jaejin nudges him forward. “Keep your head up and look ahead,” his friend whispers to him, but in spite of everything he twists his head back for the briefest of moments and scans through the mess of straight-faced members and imposing bodyguards with a hint of desperation in his searching gaze.

 

One of the bodyguards shift just the slightest, and the member right in the middle looks up for the fraction of a second, and Jaeduck’s heart stops in his chest.

 

It’s the same kind eyes and that exact dark shade, the same hair that falls across his forehead, the same curve of the lips, the same  _ everything _ , the same  _ him _ \- 

 

Jaeduck draws a breath so sharply and so suddenly he almost staggers again, and his mind is spinning in his circles in his head and he’s so dizzy he can barely turn his head away and follow the rest of his group.

 

Seungho, Seungho, Seungho.

 

_ He’s here, he’s here, he’s really right here in front of me. _

 

He aches to look back one more time, to peer past the bodyguards, to search for Seungho’s familiar gaze and to mouth out a  _ do you remember me? _ , but Jiwon yells his name irritably and drags him into the waiting room. The closing of the door cuts off his vision from the H.O.T members, and he swallows as he makes his way to the makeup table.

 

“What was with you?” Jaejin grumbles, “Are you that curious about them?”

 

“No, I-” he hesitates;  _ what am I supposed to say? My best friend in the whole world has finally come back and he just so happens to be in our rival group?  _ “No, it’s nothing.”

 

It’s everything.

 

The same person he’s waited years for has come back at last.

 

By some cruel twist of irony, they’ve become rivals.

 

_ Do you remember me? Do you remember your promise to me? _

 

When weeks of wondering turn into months and then a year, and when 1998 rolls around and his life revolves around sleepless days and nights of rehearsing choreographies and recording songs for their new album, he’s almost tempted to give up on it all - on Seungho, on his promise, on their lost friendship.

 

The next time they run into each other, their rivalry is at its peak, with Sechskies releasing Couple and H.O.T releasing Hope, and the members are even more adamant about blatantly ignoring one another; Jaejin is the most insistent of them all, making sure to not spare any H.O.T member a single glance while walking past, but nodding his head to other groups in the location.

 

When he’s walking alone in the broadcast station and he glimpses a flash of white he recognises as H.O.T’s stage outfit, he winces a little and trains his eyes on the ground - the tension isn’t being helped by the fact that Sechskies’ song beat H.O.T’s just recently.

 

But the footsteps are too familiar, the exact length of the strides ringing too clearly in his memory, and he looks up with a startled inhale.

 

His eyes meet Seungho’s.

 

One smile - that’s what Seungho offers him, the same gentle smile that causes the corners of his eyes to crinkle just a little, a tiny upward curve of his lips.

 

And then Seungho turns and walks away as if nothing transpired between them, striding towards the backstage area where the rest of the members are.

 

Jaeduck forces himself to continue walking, sucking in a shaky breath.

 

_ So you do remember me. _

  
  
  


At two-twenty in the morning, Jaeduck lies wrapped in blankets as warmly as possible, staring up at the ceiling while listening to Jaejin’s steady breaths in the silence of the room.

 

He can’t fall asleep - he allows a small smile to flit across his lips at the sense of déjà vu - with his mind all full of thoughts of Seungho again, of the same friend he said goodbye to all those years ago, of the same friend who smiled at him with the same old spark in his eyes and affection in the curve of his lips.

 

The door slides open, and he startles, almost getting up and asking the janitor lady what’s the matter before she puts her finger to her lips, gesturing towards Jaejin who’s already fast asleep. He nods in confusion, remaining silent, until she motions for him to grab his winter coat and follow her.

 

_ My winter coat? Does she want me to get out at two in the morning? _

 

“There’s someone asking for you at the door,” she tells him, “Apologised for the late timing but said that there wasn’t any other option.”

 

“Please don’t respond to the fans next time,” he pleads ruefully, “Not at this hour.”

 

“He isn’t a fan,” she insists, pointing her finger towards the door, “I’m sure of it. Just go outside and you’ll see, okay?” With that being said, she turns on her heel and makes her way to her own room, leaving him standing in the living room with his winter coat.

 

With a confused tilt of his head, he shrugs on the coat and swings open the door - what’s the worst that could happen? At most, a fan looking for him at some odd timing in the morning.

 

Standing there, black winter coat flecked white with little dapples of snow, is An Seungho.

 

He holds out his hand, the hand that grips a small bouquet of roses, and Jaeduck doesn’t know how to react - he stares at Seungho mouth agape for what feels like a full minute before he stumbles forward and accepts the roses with trembling hands.

 

Seungho smiles. “Jaeduck-ah, I missed you.”

 

His voice sounds the same, everything's the same about him, and Jaeduck sucks in a deep breath as he fights back the tears welling in his eyes, ignoring the biting sting of snowflakes against his cheeks and focusing instead on all the little details on Seungho’s face that he’s already committed to memory a long time ago.

 

“Why did you come?” Jaeduck whispers.

 

_ Why are you here? _

 

_ We aren’t supposed to be speaking - _

 

He sucks in a breath, because god knows how much he’s missed Seungho over the years, and at this point he could care less about the rivalry between their respective groups.

 

_ I’m so happy that you’re here. _

 

“Let’s go to the playground. I’m sorry for coming at this time, but we’d get slaughtered if we were seen together in broad daylight, so this is the only option,” Seungho says, ignoring Jaeduck’s question, but Jaeduck is too shocked and too close to tears to say anything and opts instead to follow Seungho, climbing aboard his own bicycle.

 

The snow is cold and unpleasant, especially at two-thirty in the morning, but it doesn’t feel all that frigid with Seungho right in front of him - with him, only him, just the two of them just as it’s always been.

 

By the time they reach it’s three, maybe, and of course the playground is completely deserted and devoid of light, but Seungho hops down from his bicycle and shines a torchlight across the area.

 

The sapphire blue of the slides has faded a little, the green paint on the yellow see-saw has begun to peel, the red swings are at a standstill looking as though they haven’t been used for years, and the orange of the monkey bars are less vivid now, with bits of chipped paint here and there.

 

It’s still beautiful, even half-covered by mounting snowflakes, even rusted and peeling and untouched. It still reminds him of the day he met Seungho in the radiant sunlight, and of the day he said goodbye to Seungho in the pouring rain, and now he stands again with Seungho after they’ve both grown up here in the whirling of a million snowflakes.

 

“Why did you come?” he whispers, turning to look at Seungho, all the while gripping the roses close to him.

 

Seungho reaches out, and the next thing Jaeduck knows he’s warm in Seungho’s familiar arms; he leans into the embrace as though it’s the most natural thing he’s ever done, more so than breathing, and he doesn’t know whether to smile or cry or both. 

 

He ends up smiling against Seungho’s shoulder, partly because Seungho’s telling him not to cry, partly because crying in winter would be terribly cold.

 

Seungho’s breath is warm against his ear, his voice gentle and soft and exactly how Jaeduck remembers.

 

“I promised you, didn’t I?”

  
  



End file.
